


Over the Hill is Better Than Under It

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2005-11-25
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry worries as Ron suffers from unexplained headaches.





	Over the Hill is Better Than Under It

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

**Beta** : She who makes me laugh - [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=hailiebu)[**hailiebu**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/hailiebu/)!

**A/N** : This is something for the _older_ folks. It's nothing great. I just had it in my head and it had to get out. It seems like it is sad, but its not. You all know I would never hurt my Ron   


* * *

A searing, stabbing burst of pain shot from temple to temple across Ron's forehead. It caused his stomach to lurch, threatening to release its contents. The room was completely dark, and he found that if he lay completely still then the pain would subside enough for him to form a few coherent thoughts. He clung to the knowledge that relief was on its way. Harry would be home soon to take care of him for the second night in a row.  
  
Faint footsteps finally entered the room and Ron rolled over, groaning in anguish.  
  
"Hi," Harry whispered. "Another headache?"  
  
Flinching as another smack of pain hit him right between his eyes, he mumbled, "Yeah."  
  
"Did you take that potion Hermione left for you?"  
  
"Ah-uh."  
  
"Obviously, it didn't help," Harry observed.  
  
"A bit."  
  
Harry kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed. "Come here," he said, gently touching the nape of Ron's neck.  
  
Relaxing immediately, Ron rested his head on Harry's lap. Using a delicate caress, Harry massaged the crown of Ron's head. "Does this make it worse?"  
  
"Mmmmmm… feels nice," Ron muttered.  
  
"This is the third headache you've had in a week," Harry said in a worried voice. "And you had two last week. I think you need to see a Healer."  
  
"It's nothing. I feel better already." Ron leaned into the soothing fingers. Pointing to his forehead, he said, "Here, please."  
  
Harry complied with the request, staring at his husband wearily. "If you have another one of these headaches, you're going to St. Mungo's. Whether you like it or not."  
  
A dazed feeling started to invade Ron's brain. "I'll be fine," he said sleepily.  
  
"Please, promise me…."  
  
Ron tried to focus on to the sound of Harry's voice as it began to fade, but the effect of Harry's comforting hands and the potion overcame him. Finally, he drifted off to a painless sleep.  
  
~~~  
  
Before even opening his eyes, Harry knew the space on the bed next to him was empty. Ron's presence in bed was overwhelming, and when he wasn't there the void was startling. After nineteen years of marriage, Ron had never learned to stay on his side of the bed. There was always a leg or an arm or both resting on Harry, as well as a warmth that radiated from him and enveloped Harry in a cocoon of comfort and security. A slight feeling of loneliness always tugged at Harry's heart when his husband wasn't in bed with him.  
  
The sounds of the shower from the bathroom lulled Harry back to sleep, until a freckled arm snaking around his chest awakened him again.  
  
"Morning," Ron whispered softly in his ear.  
  
"Feeling better?" Harry asked.  
  
"I'm fine!" Ron said irritably, letting go of Harry and laying on his back.  
  
Harry twisted around to face Ron, propping himself up on an elbow. "You may not be fine, Ron. Headaches can be the symptom of something more serious."  
  
"Stress, Harry. That's all it is. I'm trying to find a coach to replace me and we still need a reserve Seeker. I knew being Head Coach was going to be rough. I just have to get used to it."  
  
"You're going to a Healer. I don't want to hear another word otherwise."  
  
"Stop sounding like my Mum!" Rolling back to his earlier position, Ron cupped Harry's cheek in his palm and traced his thumb over Harry's lips. "I don't need a Healer. I just need some Harry medicine."  
  
Without breaking eye contact, Harry tantalizingly sucked Ron's thumb into his mouth, knowing that it would turn Ron into a very agreeable puddle of goo. Ron broke their gaze first, closing his eyes and licking his lips as the tip of Harry's tongue worked over the pad of his thumb.  
  
Grabbing Harry's hand and placing it over the bulge in his boxers, Ron said, "I've got something else that is interested in that mouth of yours."  
  
"Yeah?" asked Harry playfully.  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, waggling his eyebrows.  
  
Throwing a leg over Ron, Harry straddled his hips. "Is it your ear?" He teased, placing Ron's earlobe between his lips.  
  
"Ah… that's really nice, but not quite what I had in mind."  
  
"Is it your tongue?" Harry taunted, kissing his way across Ron's jaw line.  
  
Harry's tongue penetrated Ron's lips into his welcoming mouth. Goading Ron's tongue into his own mouth, Harry sucked hungrily on it.  
  
When he released Ron's tongue, an obviously excited Ron panted, "Not that either."  
  
"Oh, sorry. It's early and I'm a bit confused." Harry laughed. "Maybe this is what you were looking for." He continued his tongue maneuvers on Ron's skin until he reached his nipples. Digging his fingers into Harry's back, Ron arched upward, pressing his erection into Harry's hip. Harry looked up at Ron's flushed face. "Wrong again?"  
  
"God, Harry. What's gotten into you?"  
  
Pushing himself up to Ron's ear, Harry whispered, "Hopefully, you in a few minutes. Is that what you want?"  
  
"I want you to suck me first with that beautiful, perfect mouth," Ron said, burrowing his fingers in Harry's hair.  
  
"I love you so much," Harry said passionately, nuzzling Ron's neck.  
  
"I love you, too," Ron replied impatiently.  
  
After a few more tricks with Ron's ear and neck, Harry said softly, "Please, go see a Healer today about your headaches."  
  
"Blimey!" Ron yelled, bolting upright as Harry scrambled to get out of his way. "Is that what this was all about? Damn, Harry, that was really cheap."  
  
"No - no, it's not what this was all about," Harry explained frantically. "Yes, I want you to go, but I've been worried about you too and I wanted to show you that. That's all!"  
  
"Bollocks!" Ron said angrily, sitting up and slamming his feet on the floor. "I said I don't need a Healer. It's nothing but stress!"  
  
"You're so damn stubborn!" Harry shouted back, shoving Ron on the shoulder. "You won't be happy unless there is something seriously wrong with you!"  
  
Ron stood up and furiously stormed across the room.  
  
"Where are you going? I wasn't finished discussing this!" Harry called out after him.  
  
Ron spun back around. "I'm going to wank and get ready for work. Do you have a problem with that?"  
  
Jumping out of bed, Harry retorted angrily, "You're acting like a child!"  
  
Ron stomped towards the bathroom. Yelling, "Sod off," he slammed the bathroom door so hard that the mirror on the back of the door fell off and smashed on the floor.  
  
"Great! You just gave yourself seven years bad luck… Arsehole!"  
  
Things might not have gone perfectly, but it still went better than Harry had expected. Years of living with Ron taught Harry a few things; the most important was in order to beat a stubborn Weasley you had to _be_ a stubborn Weasley. Lucky for Harry, he became a Weasley the day they were married.  
  
~~~  
  
The dull ache starting behind Ron's eyes signaled him that another headache was building. Dropping the scouting report he was reading, Ron rested his elbows on his desk and started to massage his temples. Quietly, he cursed Harry under his breath. No matter how hard he tried, his own fingers didn't feel as marvelous as Harry's did.  
  
Closing his eyes, he pictured himself lying in Harry's lap while Harry's fingers caressed his skull. He surprised himself at how vividly his imagination was working. He was so drawn into the scene that he thought he could actually hear Harry's voice.  
  
"Ron, are you okay?"  
  
Startled from his thoughts, Ron looked up at Harry standing in front of his desk. "Harry! I-I was just relaxing."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to apologize," Harry explained. "I was a right prat this morning."  
  
"Really?" Ron asked skeptically.  
  
"Yes," Harry replied, walking around to the other side of the desk. "I thought I'd take you to lunch." Gently, he rubbed Ron's shoulders. "You look like you could use a break."  
  
Ron considered holding on to his anger, but the throbbing in his head wore down his reserve. "I could. Horrible, that's what these scouting reports are. The scouts' handwriting is worse than the twins!"  
  
"Great!" Harry said cheerfully, standing back so Ron could get up from his seat.  
  
"This is really a surprise," Ron said, rising from his seat. "I thought you would be angry all day."  
  
"That's how you are, Ron. Not me." Harry chuckled, linking his arm with Ron's. Gazing at Ron's face, he added, "I'm really sorry. It's for your own good."  
  
"It's okay. No need to beg my forgiveness," joked Ron, placing his hand on Harry's that was resting on his forearm.  
  
Ron heard Harry say, "I'm not talking about this morning," a mere second before everything went black and the familiar sensation of Apparition overtook him.  
  
~~~  
  
Harry braced himself for Ron's wrath.  
  
"What the… " Ron yelled, looking around the small waiting room. "Where are we?"  
  
"Healer Pye's office," Harry answered calmly. "Hermione recommended him."  
  
"I don't fucking believe you did this!" shouted Ron his eyes wide and glowing with fury. "I told you that I didn't want to see a Healer! Fuck!"  
  
"I'm sorry!" Harry said indignantly. "But you weren't going to listen to reason, so I had to resort to using force."  
  
"You can't make me see a Healer if I don't want to!" Ron shouted, scrunching his face in pain.  
  
"Don't make me stun you!" Harry threatened, taking his wand out of his pocket. "You have another headache – don't lie!"  
  
"This was worse than what you did this morning," Ron hissed, turning around in the room obviously looking for a way out. Spotting a door, Ron took on a look of triumph and headed straight for it. "I'll see you at home tonight!"  
  
As Ron put his hand on the doorknob, the door sprung open. Healer Pye stepped into the room. "Ah, you must be –" he began, extending a hand to Ron.  
  
"Leaving!" Ron interrupted, sliding sideways past the Healer through the door.  
  
"It'll take him a minute to realize he's exactly where we want him," quipped Healer Pye. "Relax, Mr. Potter –"  
  
"Harry."  
  
The Healer nodded. "Harry. Make yourself comfortable. We won't be long."  
  
The door shut quietly behind Healer Pye as Harry collapsed in a nearby chair. He waited to hear Ron's boisterous shouts, but none came, leading Harry to believe either there was a silencing charm on the room or Ron had been stunned into submission.  
  
A few minutes after Ron had entered the room, the main door leading to the hallway reappeared. Hermione had helped Harry set the trap. They both knew Ron would be furious, but Harry didn't care if Ron didn't speak to him for a month. It was better than being concerned all the time that something was seriously wrong and Ron wasn’t getting any medical attention for it.  
  
With his stomach twisted into a painful knot, Harry flipped through magazines that were failing miserably at distracting him from worrying. He kept nervously looking up at the door, waiting for either Ron or the Healer to come out and give him an update. Unable to sit still, Harry stood up and began to pace the room, wishing he had taken Hermione up on her offer to sit with him while he waited.  
  
After what seemed hours, but according to the clock on the wall had only been twenty minutes, the door opened and a female nurse, who Harry had never seen before, asked him to step into the other room.  
  
"Healer Pye has finished the examination," she informed Harry as she led him down a narrow hallway. "Unfortunately, he had to leave for an emergency in another wing. Your husband can update you on his prognosis." Stopping, she pointed towards a closed door. "Mr. Weasley is in there."  
  
"Thank you," Harry said hurriedly, opening the door to reveal Ron sitting on an examination table with his face in his hands.  
  
Panic set in as Harry's heart felt like it dropped to the floor. Holding the door open, he stood in the doorway, paralyzed with fear. Ron raised his head. Carelessly, Ron brushed the fringe from his eyes and Harry's chest swelled as he swallowed a sob.  
  
"Harry, it's horrible," Ron said, running his fingers through his hair. Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued, "I'm only 40. I can't believe this. I never expected it. Not this young."  
  
"Oh, Ron," Harry said despondently, moving to sit at his husband's side. Rubbing Ron's shoulders, he tried to comfort him while fighting back his own terror. "It'll be okay. We'll get through this together."  
  
Ron groaned, burying his face in his palms again. "The twins will take the piss out of me for sure," he mumbled.  
  
Harry looked at him quizzically, wondering if he heard right. "Fred and George can be prats, but I don't think even they would make fun of something as serious as this!"  
  
Ron looked up lovingly at Harry. "Thanks, Harry. I was worried you wouldn't understand and think that I was being silly, since you've worn them practically your whole life."  
  
"What – What are you talking about?" Harry asked mystified.  
  
"How ridiculous I'm going to look in glasses. Why? What did you think I was talking about?"  
  
"Gla-glasses! What do you mean glasses?"  
  
"Didn't the nurse tell you? I've been getting the headaches from eyestrain. I need glasses to read." Dejectedly he added, "It's what happens when you get _old_!"  
  
Relief rushed over Harry, following right behind it was anger. He didn't know whether to hug Ron or strangle him.  
  
"OW!" Ron screeched as Harry violently pinched his upper arm. "What was that for?" He asked, rubbing his arm while looking curiously at Harry.  
  
"No! The nurse did not tell me! She said you were going to tell me. I thought something was seriously wrong." Harry knew he sounded whiny, but he didn't care. He'd been fretting over Ron for two weeks; he thought he deserved a little attention now.  
  
Wrapping his arms around Harry's neck, Ron sincerely said, "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry."  
  
"No you're not. Acted like a big baby. Then I had to trick you into coming here. You didn't care that I was worried sick about you!"  
  
"I do care!" Ron exclaimed. Keeping his stiff body language intact, Harry turned his head, ignoring Ron's apology. Ron jumped off the table. Prying Harry's knees apart, he stepped in between them. "Of course, I care," he repeated softly. "I wasn't thinking how it might affect you." Pressing gentle lips to Harry's forehead, Ron continued to murmur that he was sorry until Harry relented and wrapped his arms around Ron's waist.  
  
Harry tipped his head against Ron's shoulder. "Fucking arsehole."  
  
"Yes and you love me anyway."  
  
"Yes – Yes, I do," Harry said tenderly, closing his eyes to hold back the tears of relief that were welling up in his eyes.  
  
"And you're not angry anymore?"  
  
"No. I'm just relieved that you're okay."  
  
"Good," Ron said, patting Harry on the knees. "Because you have to help me pick out a pair of glasses that won't make me look like a speccy git."  
  
"Er, excuse me," Harry said, pushing his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.  
  
Ron waved his hand in the air. "You're different. You're gorgeous. You can wear glasses and not look silly."  
  
Harry let out a heavy sigh. For over two decades, he had tried to convince Ron that he was handsome and sexy, but Ron's insecurities still got the best of him at times like these.  
  
Jumping down from the table, Harry grabbed Ron's hand. "Let's go pick you out a pair of glasses."  
  
~~~  
  
As Harry finished putting on his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, Ron caught his eye in the mirror hanging on the wardrobe door. Clad in only a pair of boxers, Ron was sitting up in bed, reading. Sighing, Harry walked over to Ron's bed stand and extracted a pair of brown metal glasses from the drawer.  
  
Holding them in his palm under Ron's nose, he asked, "Forget about these?"  
  
"No," Ron whined. "How am I supposed to lure you into shagging me with those things on?" He quietly mumbled, "Look like an old man."  
  
Harry sat on the edge of the bed. "Put them on!" he said forcefully.  
  
Reluctantly, Ron slipped them on, but kept his head lowered.  
  
"Look at me," Harry said, hooking a finger under Ron's chin, gently prodding it upwards. "I think you look distinguished and very, very shaggable."  
  
"You're just saying that because you love me!" argued Ron.  
  
"Maybe… I don't know if I would say it if I didn't because I do. I loved you for so long that I don't remember what it was like before I did. Anyway, it shouldn't matter what anyone else thinks – right?"  
  
"Right," Ron said with a half smile.  
  
Harry climbed over Ron to his side of the bed. "Isn't it better without all of those headaches?"  
  
Ron shrugged.  
  
"Ron, you can't be serious! You'd rather have those horrible migraines then wear a pair of stupid glasses?"  
  
"It's not the headaches that I miss," Ron said, resting his head in Harry's lap and looking up at him with great big puppy-dog eyes. "I really miss the scalp massages."  
  
Pretending that he was resentfully giving in to Ron's request, Harry began to caress Ron's head.  
  
Ron's fingers gently traced a pattern along Harry's inner-thigh, causing Harry's heart to race faster.  
  
"You may be old enough for reading glasses, but your libido has certainly not decreased," Harry announced light-heartedly.  
  
"Thank god for that!" Ron said empathically. "And I still have my hair, unlike some people… namely Fred and George!"  
  
Biting his bottom lip, Harry stared at the patch of scalp peaking through the crown of Ron's head. He had been watching the circle grow slightly wider over time. Secretly, he had enjoyed the massages as much as Ron did. It had given him time to enjoy running his fingers through Ron's beautiful, fiery red hair, knowing that someday – sooner rather than later - it would be gone.  
  
Not that any of it mattered. In those few seconds when Harry had feared that he might be losing Ron, Harry thought he would die right along with him. It wasn't Ron's hair or his face or his body that had made Harry fall in love with him, marry him, and grow old with him. It was Ron's heart and soul that Harry wanted - the rest was just an ever-changing package. And with each change, every new gray hair or hair that was washed down the drain, Harry was reminded how lucky they both were to be alive and together - even if Ron was going to grow old kicking and screaming the entire way.  
  
Harry wrapped a strand of Ron's hair around his index finger. "Yes, Ron," Harry said, feeding Ron's delusion. "Yes, you do."


End file.
